I want to feed

Four or five thousand

Yet the bread is

A rock I've commanded

And kneeled down

To

 

I want to cast

The net down and

Hoist up a supply

Of fish to feed,

Yet the net

Had been worn and

Broken from the

Shark

 

I have found

Five loaves

And I have found

Two fish,

Yet I haven't

Found the hands

Needed to praise

The heavens, so

As to break them 

And multiply

 

I've found money

In my pocket,

Yet I'm not supposed

To bring it, but

Everything in the market

Is pleasing to look at

 

The bread in the

Market looks 

Stale, moldy, and

Unpleasant to eat,

The fish seems to

Be covered in worms

 

But beyond the 

Mold and worms

Lies a king

On a throne,

And I watch

The peasant boy

Take the loaves

In

 

As though the

Loaves and fish were

Abandoned dogs,

He runs, he eats,

And wears the sun,

Glowing, walking

With a King's gait

While I lie underneath

The table, eating his

Crumbs

 

Toiling but never 

Earning, only 

Eating thorns as

The fruit of my labor,

Watching the pigs

Feast with a fatted calf

And vats of wine,

While I search, but I

No longer find

Five loaves and

Two fish.